


Just One of Those Things

by Kedavranox



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottoming from the Top, Casual Sex, Come as Lube, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Muggle Curious! Draco, Nutella, Oral Sex, Rimming, Snowballing, Switching, Topping from the Bottom, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-28
Updated: 2013-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-27 19:56:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/982982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kedavranox/pseuds/Kedavranox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Draco have sex!<br/>Featuring a Muggle curious Draco, a deliciously amused Harry and a strangely perverted Luna. Love’s a pretty scary thing when you find it. Especially when your parents just don’t get it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just One of Those Things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [talithan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/talithan/gifts).



> Originally written for H/D Tropes Exchange Fest. Original header at the end.

 

**Just One of Those Things**

 

_When we first saw the Erumpet, I said to my guide ‘ ~~w~~ We must get closer!’  I was thinking, perhaps the creature might consider allowing me a sample of its horn shavings. However, my guide, was  ~~under the misguided notion that Erumpets are dangerous beats. Completely unfounded of course, my father and I once owned a large collection of our own Erumpet horns, but these were ruthlessly destroyed by one, Hermione Granger~~  reluctant to do so, since Erumpents are known Class Five Dangerous Beasts.  ~~I decided to stun him, just for a little while and~~ However, I used my powers of persuasion, and changed his mind. ~~I~~ We guided the flying carpet just a little closer….._

 

  
The sound of a slightly shrill voice calling his name interrupts his thoughts, and Draco drops his quill, massaging his wrist and getting up wearily from his desk.  
  
‘I’m up here.’  
  
He’s been re-reading and editing most of Luna’s reports from her latest expedition, re-writing more than half of it so it’s somewhat discernible and so that Luna won’t get herself arrested.   
  
He’s been ghostwriting Luna’s articles ever since she offered him the job two years ago. He had nothing to do, and Luna desperately need someone to make her work readable. Plus she had an extra room in her flat, and Draco desperately needed a change of scene.   
  
His door opens, and Luna walks in, her long blonde hair piled atop her head in a messy bun, with flushed cheeks, and the usual permanent look of surprise on her face.   
  
‘Don’t tell me you’ve been holed up here all day?’ she says, crossing the room and flinging open his bedroom curtains, throwing open the windows for fresh air.   
  
‘You know I have. The deadline for print is in two days, and I’m still wading through this mountain of ‘reports’ you’ve written,’ he says, pushing his shoulder length hair back from his face. ‘I’m quite sure 90% of this adventure was in your head, Luna.’   
  
She turns to face him, folding her arms across her chest. ‘Calling me a liar?’ she asks, mouth twitching.   
  
Draco smiles. ‘I’ve known you to embellish just a bit.’   
  
Luna smiles evasively. ‘Well come away now. Harry’s just arrived, and I think he’ll need some help with the Grindylow tank.’   
  
Draco’s heart flutters the slightest bit, but he quickly shakes it off. ‘Brilliant, we'll finally be rid of that thing.’   
  
‘ _That thing_ , Draco, is a Class Three endangered species. We’re lucky to have found a male for Harry to pair with Sheila.’   
  
Draco rolls his eyes. ‘I can’t believe he named it.’   
  
‘He names all the creatures on his reservation,’ Luna says stoutly. ‘Now, come along. By now I’m sure he’s broken his back trying to lift the thing on his own.’   
  
Luna heads straight to the door, but Draco hangs behind. ‘Give me a sec.’  
  
He turns to his oversized mirror, just to make sure there isn’t any ink on his face or anything like that, and then he runs his fingers through his hair and straightens out his shirt. When he finally turns to the door, he finds Luna peering curiously at him and his stomach sinks a little.  
  
‘I thought you’d gone downstairs.’   
  
Luna stares and him unblinkingly. ‘Nope.’   
  
Draco sighs. ‘Let’s go.’   
  
~  
  
Harry, as usual, is dressed in tattered jeans and a plaid shirt that’s molded onto his muscular back with sweat. His hair is in its usual disarray and there’s a dirt smudge on his left cheek. He’s -as Luna predicted- crouched over the large Grindylow tank they’ve been storing in the basement until Harry could come collect it. His jeans are stretches across his arse, and his shoulders flex as he tries to wrap his arms around it.   
  
Draco rolls his eyes. ‘Potter, that thing weighs almost as much as you do.’   
  
Harry straightens up and turns, flashing him a sheepish grin. ‘I just thought I’d check,’ he says, wiping a drop of sweat off his brow. ‘Come to help, have you?’  
  
‘Luna sent me.’   
  
‘And you'd better hurry,’ Luna calls from the top of the stairs. ‘Harry says he has a date.’   
  
Harry grins, his cheeks turning red.   
  
Draco folds his arms across his chest. ‘Do you really?’ he says, arching one pale brow.   
  
‘Actually, yes.’   
  
‘Huh,’ Draco murmurs. He rolls up his sleeves and turns to the tank. The Grindylow rushes forward in the water, pressing his ugly face on the glass and sneering. ‘Let’s get this over with then. Wouldn’t want to make you late.’   
  
Harry walks over to the other side, glancing at Draco, eyes brimming with mirth.  ‘Could you possibly be jealous, Malfoy?’   
  
Draco rolls his eyes. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I have plans of my own, if you must know.’   
  
‘Oh really?’  Harry gives him an amused look across the tank, and Draco’s face heats.   
  
‘Shut up and grab the bloody thing, Potter.’   
  
Harry leans forward, revealing his flat stomach beneath his loose shirt and the tantalising trail of dark hair disappearing into his waistband. Draco looks away hastily and wraps his arms around the tank.  
  
‘You sure this won't take a lightening charm,’ he says, grunting.   
  
‘There are two charms on there already, I don’t want to risk too much magic around him. You know how finicky Grindylows are.’   
  
Draco rolls his eyes. ‘Where are we Apparating to?’   
  
‘Just inside the holding paddock.’ Harry wraps his arms round the other side of the tank, and they link their fingers together. Draco grits his teeth through the uncomfortable Side-Along Apparition, and grunts when they land in Harry’s oversized paddock.   
  
Harry surprised everyone by rejecting his offer into the Auror programme and joining Hagrid in his crazy venture in creating a Sanctuary for Magical creatures. Their sanctuary, simply called  _Sanctuary -_ Draco’s almost certain Hagrid came up with the name _-_  is now one of the largest in Britain, taking up over a whole hundred acres in the middle of Greenham. Harry decided to make it Unplottable, protecting it against poachers and the like, and he’s surrounded it in Muggle-Repelling Charms so powerful, it sets Draco’s teeth on edge.   
  
They set the tank down, and Draco looks around the paddock, where Harry keeps his new arrivals, in different areas, quarantined by magical barriers, until they’re ready to integrate into their various populations.   
  
An Augurey chick looks up at them from a few yards away, chirping pitifully, trying to get Harry’s attention.  
  
Harry pats the Grindylow tank fondly as it snarls at him from inside the glass. ‘I have a mind to name you Dudley, you little beast.’   
  
The Grindylow bangs its fist on the glass and Draco steps two paces back, almost stepping straight into a pile of Hippogriff shit.   
  
Harry glances down at his feet. ‘Careful, now.’   
  
Draco puts his hands on his hips. ‘Is that it?’ he asks. ‘Can I leave now? I wouldn’t want you to be late.’   
  
Harry’s mouth twitches, and he opens his mouth to reply, but he’s interrupted by a low growl emanating from one of the paddock larger stalls.   
  
Harry tosses Draco a nervous glance, and sidesteps him, trying to block Draco’s view from the general direction of the -now frequent- low growls emanating from the stall.  
  
Draco, being no stranger to this kind of sudden evasiveness from Harry, steps boldly forward, pushing himself past Harry to see what the idiot’s gotten himself into this time.   
  
A medium-sized, small, black cage sits innocuously on the dirt floor. There are a few dangerously mangled blankets spilling out of the cage, but Draco can’t see inside it far enough to decipher its occupant. Only the low ominous growling that’s starting to get under Draco’s skin.   
  
‘Potter,’ he says in a quiet voice. ‘What’s the fuck is that?’   
  
Harry gives him a fleeting glance. ‘It’s not illegal,’ he says quickly.   
  
Draco raises his eyebrows.   
  
‘Okay. It’s not  _completely_ illegal. Just... inadvisable.’   
  
‘Stop stalling and tell me,’ Draco says.   
  
In any event, Harry doesn’t have to tell him what it is because, in the next moment, the creature comes close to the bars, rubbing her soft leopard print fur against the thick iron bars, her eyes tracking them both as if contemplating how best to eat them.    
  
‘ _Is that a--’_ Draco steps back a few paces. ‘Is that a Nundu, Potter? Are you  _out of your fucking mind_?’   
  
‘Quiet down,’ Harry cries, pulling Draco aside, behind the Grindylow tank and out of sight of the beast.   
  
‘She’s only a baby.’   
  
‘What the fuck? Harry, where on earth did you find a Nundu cub? Was someone actually stupid enough to give it to you?’   
  
Harry grabs his arm, and in a split second they’re in the living room of Hagrid’s cozy cottage, a few minutes away from the sanctuary.   
  
‘First off, I didn’t find her. Hagrid did.’  
  
‘Ok. Then Hagrid’s the idiot. But we already knew that didn’t we?’   
  
Harry’s flicks him on the nose. ‘Don’t make me hex you, Draco.’   
  
Draco rubs his nose indignantly. ‘Harry, are you insane. That is the most dangerous magical creature...  _ever_. You’re going to get yourself killed.’  
  
Harry sighs. ‘Hagrid wants to see if he can train her,’ he says. At Draco’s renewed look of horror, he raises his hand. ‘I won’t let him keep her. So you can calm down. He only brought her in yesterday. I need to find somewhere where she can go.’   
  
Draco rubs his face with his palms. ‘Just-- stay away from it would you?’ he says.  
  
Harry watches him for a moment, and then he nods.   
  
‘I’m serious, Harry.’  
  
‘I know! God, I’m not an idiot.’   
  
Draco chooses not to comment on that. ‘I’ve got to go,’ he says. ‘Enjoy your date.’   
  
‘Oh, I will,’ Harry says, smirking.   
  
Draco rolls his eyes and Disapparates.   
  
~  
  
His plans to escape into Muggle London are deterred by an owl from his mother, asking him to dinner.   
  
Draco groans, and considers ignoring it, but it’s been almost a week since he’s seen her, and he knows a Howler will find him soon if he doesn’t go. He pulls on a pair of jeans and an old white T-shirt, deciding to take ample opportunity to piss off his father, and then he pulls on a dinner jacket, just to appease his mother.  
  
He Apparates into the Manor, and it still takes him a few moments to catch his bearings when he arrives.  Thanks to restoration spells and a firm hand by his mother, most of the Manor has been rid of the taint of Dark magic. She even replaced the drab upholstery and depressing interior with a light, homey decor in a last ditch attempt to get Draco to move back in, but it was for naught. Draco had already signed the lease with Luna on their flat, and he wasn’t quite certain copious amount of animated wallpaper and floating faerie lights could remove the taint Voldemort left behind. It certainly does nothing for the memories.   
  
  
He grabs an apple from the fruit bowl in the entryway and strides down the hall to the Living Room. It’s strangely quiet in the Manor. Even with only his parents around, he could always hear them talking in low voices, arguing over whatever they’d chosen to disagree about that day. As he nears the room, he hears a trickle of girlish laughter that he knows could never belong to his mother and groans.   
  
 _Astoria._  
  
Fucking hell. He should have seen this one coming. His parents have been trying to set him up with Astoria Greengrass ever since she turned twenty-one. He considers Disapparating, but then he hears the footsteps behind and Lucius is there, smirking at him.   
  
‘Might as well get on with it, boy,’ he says, pushing him forward.   
  
Draco groans and follows his father into the drawing room, where Astoria and his mother, are apparently sharing stories over tea. Most of which, Draco‘s sure include embarrassing and strictly untrue tales from his childhood.   
  
Narcissa looks up, a smile playing on her lips. ‘Draco, you made it. I’m so pleased.’   
  
Draco resists the urge to roll his eyes. ‘Hello mother,’ he says, leaning forward to kiss her cheek. He turns to Astoria, and politely reaches out his hand. ‘Astoria,’ he says, kissing her on the back of her hand when she offers it.   
  
She looks up at him, her blue eyes glinting with amusement. ‘Draco, how lovely to see you.’   
  
He offers her another tight smile, and then bites down on his apple.   
  
The skin beneath his mother’s eyes tighten just slightly. Draco chews loudly and deliberately, smacking his lips and not bothering to deal with the small trail of juice slowly trailing down his chin.   
  
His father sits beside Narcissa, and effectively tunes out of the conversation by hiding himself behind the  _Daily Prophet._  
  
Draco glances at Astoria, staring into her tea with a small smirk. She’s attractive enough. Any straight man would be happy to have her. Her skin is soft and smooth, and pale. Her flaxen coloured hair falls around her face in effortless waves that show no sign of any charms. Draco actually likes her. She makes him laugh every time they're pushed together at family dinners and the like. She can keep up with him in any sort of debate and she doesn't take offence to his absolute sexual disinterest in her.   
  
He’s almost 90% certain she knows he’s gay. But they're both Pureblood and they understand how things operate. Many unhappy marriages are made for the sake of keeping the bloodlines pure. No one would look down on him if he took a man to his bed, as long as he had provided an heir of proper magical talent.   
  
His mother pours him a cup of tea. ‘Draco, why don’t you tell Astoria all about your research?’   
  
Ah. Research. Yes.  
  
This is how he described the time he spends with Luna, writing for the Quibbler. As research.   
  
He drops his apple core on a plate next to his tea, and launches into a long, well-rehearsed story about his… _research._  
  
 _~_  
  
It’s well after ten when he finally makes it into Muggle London, Apparating behind the club he goes to every Friday. He shrinks his dinner jacket, ruffles his hair and absently checks his breath as he walks around to the entrance.   
  
He can feel the eyes on his back as he walks into the club, and he’s allows himself to gloat a little bit, knowing that he’s definitely going to shag someone tonight. The bouncer at the door doesn’t even give him a second glance as he walks in, and he walks straight to the bar.   
  
He knows the bartender, so his drink, the usual whiskey sour, comes fast. He knocks it back, before he looks to his left, at the bloke leaning casually against the bar a few feet away and smirks. Draco walks straight up to him and hooks his fingers into his belt loops, walking him a few paces back before pushing him up against the wall.   
  
‘You’re late,’ Harry says.   
  
‘Couldn’t help it.’ Draco pushes his knee between Harry’s legs, and kisses the small space beneath Harry’s ear.   
  
Harry smells like whiskey and earth, and something that’s uniquely  _him_. Just breathing him in makes Draco rock hard every single time. Draco nips Harry’s earlobe, and Harry makes a noise that vibrates against Draco’s lips when he kisses Harry’s throat.   
  
Draco pulls away just as Harry’s fingers snakes their way into his hair.   
  
Draco presses their hips together, and Harry counters, pushing his arse slightly off the wall behind him.   
  
‘You told Luna you had a date?’  
  
‘I did have a date,’ Harry says, lifting his eyebrow. ‘Did you think I was talking about you?’   
  
Draco would never admit it, but that stings just a little. Even though he knows that this is what it’s like between them. The fucking -- he doesn’t like to think about how intense it is sometimes, how occasionally, he finds himself on the verge of giving Harry  _more._ Wanting him more.   
  
Just occasionally.   
  
Rarely, even.   
  
Harry’s looking up at him now, challenging him with those fucking green eyes, as if  daring him to do something more. To take something more, but he can’t, and it’s torture sometimes. It’s torture seeing him almost every other day, and not being able to do this. But this is what they agreed on. The terms he set for himself.   
  
Only out here, separate, in the  _other_  world, does he allow himself to touch Harry this way.  
  
‘You  _are_  jealous,’ Harry murmurs. ‘I knew it.’   
  
Draco leans in and kisses him hard. He’s not sure where it’s coming from, but tonight he wants Harry for tomorrow, and the day after. Draco snakes his tongue between Harry’s lips and Harry’s cups Draco’s cheeks in his palms intimately --desperately.  
  
 Draco drags his fingertips beneath Harry’s shirt, resting his palm flat against the small of Harry’s back, scratching his nails against the warm flesh, marking him.  
  
Harry tilts his head, deepening the kiss, swiping his tongue across Draco’s lips. Draco’s body shuddered involuntarily.  Harry kisses him like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, and it leaves Draco breathless every time.   
  
He pulls away, gently nipping Harry’s full lower lip, with his teeth.   
  
‘Come on, let’s go,’ Draco says breathlessly. ‘I want to fuck you.’   
  
‘Oh, how romantic.’   
  
Draco pulls away, and finds himself assaulted by Harry’s sardonic grin. His lips are bruised red, his shirt a wrinkled mess. If Draco had his way, he’d already have his cock buried in Harry’s arse.  
  
‘Fuck romance,’ Draco says. He lightly palms the bulge in Harry’s jeans. Harry sucks in a sharp breath. ‘You know what these jeans do to me.’   
  
Harry wraps his arms around Draco’s neck. ‘You’ve never said anything about my jeans,’ Harry says. ‘Exactly what do they do to you?’   
  
Draco groans as Harry’s erection brushes his thigh.   
  
‘Think we can Disapparate here?’ he asks. ‘I’m sure no one’s looking.’   
  
Harry laughs. ‘Draco, everyone's looking.’   
  
Draco sighs and steps back, taking a few seconds to collect himself and straighten his collar before grabbing Harry’s hand and dragging him out the club. He doesn’t stop until they're beside the filthy skip in the alleyway and he snogs Harry again, barely feeling the pull of Disapparition as Harry takes them to his flat.   
  
When Draco opens his eyes, he’s surrounded by the familiar sights and smells of Harry’s room. The deep green on the walls, the four poster king-sized bed, the racing broom mounted on the wall, the piles of clothes and discarded robes all over the room.   
  
He pushes Harry backwards and Harry falls heavily on the bed.   
  
‘Strip,’ Draco says in a breathy voice he doesn’t recognise. Harry’s eyes darken, and he slowly unbuttons his shirt, never taking his gaze from Draco. The heat of Draco’s arousal rises from his skin. He pulls off his t shirt, lamenting those few seconds he breaks eye contact. He pulls off his jeans and tosses them aside just as Harry tosses his shirt aside, and pulls off his own jeans.   
  
Harry’s thick cock is already fully erect, jutting straight up against his belly from the nest of dark curls in his groin, the head already slick with precome. Draco indicates with a nod that Harry should move up on the bed, and Harry does so without hesitation. Draco palms his cock absently, and Harry’s unabashedly covetous gaze makes Draco even harder.  
  
He drapes himself over Harry’s lean body, pressing their chests together. He kisses a trail ups the side of Harry's neck and Harry sighs pleasurably, arching beneath him when Draco sucks on his pulse point.   
  
 _‘Draco.’_  
  
Harry threads his fingers through the thick hair at Draco’s nape, and Draco lift his head, hovering over him, the muscles in his back straining. He leans on one hand and gently pulls off Harry's glasses, setting them aside on his dresser.   
  
It’s a fairly intimate gesture, one he’s never done before, and Harry blinks up at him.   
  
‘Why were you late?’ he whispers.   
  
Draco dots a kiss between Harry’s eyebrows. ‘Maybe I had a date, too.’   
  
He lets his weight fall on Harry, resting his forearms on the bed and running his fingers through Harry’s hair, which fascinates him. It’s his new favourite thing to push it down, and watch the way it springs up again.  
  
‘There really was a date you know, Draco,’ he says. ‘You really think I sat and waited around for you for three hours?’   
  
Draco’s certain Harry can feel the way his heart speeds up ever so slightly, but if he does, he doesn’t indicate that he’s noticed.   
  
‘Hm.’ Draco says in his standard, offhand voice. ‘Who with?’   
  
‘A bloke. Obviously.’   
  
Draco pulls his knees up and pushes himself off of Harry’s chest, straddling him and grasping both their cocks into his palm, stroking them both idly.   
  
‘Did you fuck him?’   
  
Harry bites his lower lip, trying in vain to push his cock further into Draco’s palm.   
  
‘No I did not,’ he manages to groan. ‘Have you fucked Astoria yet?’  
  
Draco stops his slow, teasing strokes and pinches Harry’s nipple. Harry bucks beneath him.   
  
‘Good one, Harry.’   
  
‘I try.’   
  
Draco leans forward so that their face are mere inches apart, he kisses the space beneath Harry’s ear.  
  
 ‘You have the most infuriating sense of humour,’ he murmurs against Harry’s skin.  
  
‘My most attractive quality, so I’m told.’   
  
Draco kisses him just to shut him up, and Harry arches his hips, rutting up against him. Draco groans at the slip and slide of their cocks, both slick with pre-come.   
  
He pulls away, sitting up on his knees. ‘Turn over.’   
  
Harry just looks at him for a moment, his eyes darkened with lust, his chest rising and falling heavily with each breath.   
  
He turns over and spreads his thighs, forcing Draco to reposition himself, placing his knees in the space between Harry’s long legs. When Harry settles himself, Draco absently strokes his cock, caught in staring at Harry’s round, pert arse.   
  
‘Fuck, Harry,’ he murmurs, pushing back his foreskin and lightly teasing the sensitive head of his cock. ‘Your arse is so perfect.’   
  
Harry tosses him a look over his shoulder. ‘You always say that.’   
  
Draco lifts his hand and spanks Harry’s left cheek hard, and Harry jumps and then lets out a long, low groan. Draco squeezes the reddened flesh in his palm and then brings his hand down harder, this time on Harry’s right arsecheek.   
  
‘Fuck, Draco.’   
  
Harry ruts into the mattress and Draco squeezes his arsecheeks again, pressing Harry down and holding him still.   
  
‘Did I say you could do that?’   
  
Harry whimpers, and Draco kneads both Harry's arse cheeks in his palms and then spreads them apart.   
  
The sight of Harry’s quivering hole exposed to him like this forces a dribble of precome from his cock. He strokes himself lightly, squeezing some of the clear fluid from his cock and dabs it onto Harry’s arsehole with his fingertips.   
  
‘Ah.’ Harry presses back onto Draco’s finger, pushing it just past the ring of muscle, and he groans into the bed sheets.   
  
‘Fuck, you’re so tight. Look at that.’   
  
Draco gents pulls his finger out, smearing his precome around the puckered flesh of Harry’s hole and then pushes Harry’s  arsecheeks apart. He spends a few moments, transfixed by the way Harry’s hole clenches and unclenches itself, as if begging for a taste of his cock.  
  
‘Draco, please.’   
  
Draco smirks and leans forward, blowing lightly against the slick skin.  
  
Harry groans and pulls himself up on his knees exposing his arse even further and gripping the bed sheets in his fingertips.   
  
 _‘Please.’_  
  
Draco obliges by tracing the shape of Harry’s hole with his tongue. Harry arches his back, making a low keening sound that goes straight to Draco’s cock.   
  
Draco teases Harry’s hole  just the way he knows Harry likes, flicking his tongue against the loosening rim, and then tonguing his hole, spreading Harry’s arse cheeks wide enough to bury his face in Harry’s arse.   
  
Draco keeps going until Harry’s a quivering mess beneath him, begging to be fucked. He loves that he can bring Harry to this. He loves seeing the usually cool, calm and confident man reduced to moans and pleas and begs, with nothing but Draco’s name on his lips.   
  
‘Draco,  _please, please, please.’_  
  
Harry’s made a complete mess of the bed, pulling all the sheets out, exposing the mattress, holding the coverlet tight in his fists and canting his hips.   
  
Draco pulls away, because he can't wait any longer, and strokes his almost painfully hard cock a few times, spreading his precome like lube, and pushes into Harry’s hole with one deep stroke.   
  
He almost whimpers at the sensation of tight, wet heat around his cock, clinging to him like a vise. He drops his forehead against Harry’s sweat-slicked back and starts thrusting into him, making the headboard slam against the wall again and again. Draco spreads his palm flat on Harry’s taut stomach pulling them both halfway upright.   
  
‘Fuck, Draco. Yes.’   
  
Harry spreads his thighs, taking Draco’s cock in even deeper, and Draco shuts his eyes.   
  
‘Harry. Yes. Just like that.’   
  
Draco tweaks Harry’s nipple, and then thrust hard enough to throw him off balance. Harry falls forward onto his palms, and Draco grips his hips, squeezing the flesh of Harry's arse, admiring the twin dimples and the base of his spine.   
  
‘You’re perfect,’ he murmurs in a breathy voice, thrusting inside Harry’s hole, watching the skin stretch to take him in. Harry arsehole clenches around him and Draco almost comes. He completely loses his rhythm and Harry takes the opportunity to push back against him, as Draco remains still, watching, mesmerised as his cock disappears inside of Harry’s hole.   
  
‘Yes,’ he manages weakly. ‘Fuck yourself on my cock.’   
  
Harry does, arching his back and rocking his hips on Draco’s cock.   
  
With the loud, breathy moans they’re both making, Draco would be surprised if the whole neighbourhood didn’t know what they were up to. The thought is enough to push him over the edge, and his balls draw up tight as he empties himself into Harry’s hole, falling forward and licking the length of Harry’s spine with the tip of his tongue as he empties the remainder of his semen inside Harry’s clenching hole. They both fall ungraciously onto the bed, and Draco cock slips out of Harry’s hole.   
  
He knows from the way Harry’s holding himself that he hasn’t come yet but he’s close. Draco pushes him onto his side, and spreads his arsecheeks with his palms, watching his come roll thickly from Harry’s arse.   
  
He quickly pushes his index finger in and fucks him slowly.   
  
‘You love it, don’t you,’ he says, voice thick and heavy with lust. His cock twitches and he presses his lips against the back of Harry's neck. Harry pulls his knee into his chest, allowing Draco easier access.  
  
‘Don’t you love my come in your arse? Look at you.’   
  
Harry moans softly, shutting his eyes tight, biting his lower lip. His palm twitches to reach for his cock, but Draco pinches his arse cheeks with his free hand.   
  
‘Don’t you dare,’ he says. ‘I’m going to make you come with just this.’   
  
Harry says his name softly, and Draco crooks his finger, finding his prostate and massaging it gently, and fucking Harry’s hole on his finger. Harry rocks his hips, and Draco stills him with a bite on his shoulder.   
  
‘Don’t move.’   
  
He adds another finger, fucking Harry faster, mercilessly stimulating his prostate until Harry reaches behind and grips Draco’s forearm His body tautens and then he comes with a shout. His orgasm seems to go on forever, his cock spurting thick white semen onto the bed sheets until he is absolutely spent and shaking in Draco's arms.   
  
Draco spoons behind him, his softened cock pressing against Harry crack. He kisses Harry’s shoulder blades as Harry spirals back down.   
  
Harry grabs his hand and pulls it over his chest. He’s still shaking minutes later when Draco asks, ‘You okay?’   
  
Harry just nods, and Draco rests his forehead against his hair, breathing in the just- washed scent.   
  
His last thought before he falls asleep is that it would be a very bad idea to wake up to Harry.   
  
He’s quite certain it’s a bad idea all round.  
  
~  
  
He wakes before Harry does.   
  
He gently dislodges himself from Harry’s body, and then peers at the wristwatch on Harry’s bedside table. It’s just after nine in the morning.   
  
He swings his feet across the bed and reaches for his jeans, digging into his jeans pocket for his wand. When his fingers close around it, he Summons the rest of his things and dresses quickly He studiously avoids looking at Harry’s sleeping form, because he knows if he does, he won’t want to leave.   
  
He’s never stayed the night before. Not since they started doing... this  _thing_  that they’ve been doing.   
  
It started when, in his distress and desire to escape the Manor, his mother, and everything magical, Draco had started taking frequent, and increasingly random trips into Muggle London. At first, it was absolutely terrifying. He could write a comedy of errors on all his mishaps and faux pas.  But then, it became a thing that he did, just for his enjoyment. He’s never spoken to anyone about it, not even Greg.   
  
On Friday nights he goes to the same gay club he practically stumbled into once when he was bored and looking for something to do. The first time he was there, he was overwhelmed. He didn’t know places existed where men like him could simply get drunk and fuck each other. He didn’t know about strobe lights, or DJs. He didn't know how easy it was to get fucked. But he learned pretty fast.   
  
On Wednesdays he goes to IKEA. He has no idea why, just that the place fascinates him. On Sundays he goes to the park. Any park. He wanders. He sits. He looks. Muggles still fascinate him. Occasionally they still frighten him. Not that he’d admit that to anyone. Lately he’s been thinking about Harry, and their ‘arrangement.’   
  
They’d seen each other in the club on Friday, and it was... strange to say the least. At first he was annoyed. Of all the places he could have gone to, Harry had to find the one place he cruised every Friday night.   
  
In his ‘real life’  has to see Harry quite often, what with living with Luna and trying to place some of the animals Luna brings home in his Sanctuary, his relationship with Harry had been friendly enough, but nowhere near any sort of camaraderie.   
  
When Draco saw him that night, he was already way past drunk, and Harry was wearing those fucking jeans, so Draco sat beside him and said, ‘The way I see it Potter, we have two options.’   
  
Harry had pushed his glass away, and given him a slow smile.   
  
‘And what are those?’   
  
‘We can either make this really awkward for each other,’ Draco said. ‘Or we can make this really  _good_  for each other.   
  
Harry had smiled and looked away, but the tips of his ears were red and Draco knew he was going to fuck him.   
  
Then they fucked again the following Friday. And the Friday after, Draco had proposed his idea. What he called an “arrangement” in his head. They were both young and fit. Harry particularly so, although the git still doesn’t seem to notice the way the men in the club look at him. Or the way they’ve taken to glaring at Draco. They were both horny as hell. And it was convenient.   
  
‘Convenient,’ Harry had said, studying his nails in that way he does when he’s bursting with something to say. ‘That’s an interesting way to put it.’   
  
But, he agreed, and from that moment on they fuck on Fridays.   
  
Draco’s been fucking Harry Potter for five months, and now, he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself.   
  
Draco stands up and walks to the doorway, and is almost out the door when Harry says,  
‘So… you’re just going to leave?’   
  
Draco turns, gripping the door frame tightly.   
  
‘Usually we just fuck,’ he says.   
  
Harry sits up and leans back against the headboard. The sheet they’d hastily covered themselves with last night slips past his hips, halfway exposing his half hard cock, and the jut of his hipbone.   
  
Draco remembers tracing the shape of those hips with tongue once when he gave Harry a drunken blowjob in the back alleyway of the club. When was that? He doesn’t quite remember.   
  
‘That’s usually because you like it that way,’ Harry says, pushing his hair up off his forehead. ‘Last night was different.’   
  
Draco doesn’t know what to say to this. He steps back into the room and leans against the wall.   
  
‘I’m not good at the other bit.’   
  
Harry’s mouth twitches with a half-smile. ‘What, the talking bit? I figured that out myself, yeah.’   
  
Draco swallows. ‘So… you went on a date?’   
  
Harry scratched the dark stubble on his chin. ‘Hermione’s idea,’ he says. ‘She’s always trying to get me to meet up with some bloke. You were late, so I had a few drinks with him. Then I came back to look for you.’   
  
‘Hmm.’ Draco says absently.  
  
He’s almost certain that Harry hasn’t told Granger or his Weasley friends about their arrangement. And he’s also certain that anyone Granger picked for Harry would probably be a model citizen, with perfect hair and without the scar of the Dark Mark.   
  
‘Do you want us to stop?’   
  
Harry raises his brows in surprise. ‘Draco, it was just one date,’ he says. ‘Do  _you_  want to stop?’   
  
Draco shrugs, not looking Harry in the eye.   
  
‘I don’t,’ Harry says, and Draco looks up. ‘Last night was brilliant.’   
  
Draco nods. ‘Good then,’ he says. He pushes himself up off the wall.   
  
‘I have to go.’    
  
Harry opens his mouth to say something, but then he simply nods, and Draco Disapparates.   
  
~   
  
He writes for the rest of the day, finishing two field reports for Luna and mailing them off to print.  
  
Astoria owls him around six to ask him to dinner at the newest restaurant in Diagon Alley. He desperately wants to say no. He’s pretty sure he heard that the restaurant was opened by the female Weasley and her fiancé, Longbottom, and if he’s seen in public with Astoria, word would most certainly get back to Harry.   
  
Not that it matters. He and Harry aren’t exclusive.   
  
Not that he wants them to be.   
  
He pens a quick note confirming his plans with Astoria, and heads downstairs to find some sort of alcoholic substance to calm his nerves just a little. Luna is there, quill behind her ear, nose firmly in some book or the other, leaning over the kitchen counter. Draco steps around her, and rummages through their cupboards for something heavy. Luna looks up when he sets down a bottle of scotch and two tumblers beside her.   
  
‘Oh, bless you,’ she says, watching as he pours.   
  
Draco smiles and pushes one her way, then pours himself a glass and downs it quickly before pouring himself another.   
  
Luna raises her eyebrows in surprise. ‘What’s with you?’ she says, pushing herself up on the countertop.   
  
‘I’m fucked.’   
  
Luna sips her Scotch.  ‘Hmm. Is this about Harry?’  
  
Draco carefully rests his glass on the countertop beside her.   
  
‘What... exactly do you mean?’ he says carefully.   
  
Luna raises her eyebrows. ‘Oh, Draco, come on. We live together! And sometimes you don’t even use silencing spells!’   
  
Draco groans and covers his face with his hands. He peeks at her from between his fingers. ‘Please, _please,_  for the love of Merlin. Please tell me you haven’t talked to Harry about this.’   
  
‘Of course I haven’t,’ she says. ‘You’re really quite dominant in bed, aren’t you? Not that I’m surprised. But Harry doesn’t seem like the type to be--’   
  
 _‘Luna.’_  
  
She sets her glass on the counter and looks at him straight on. ‘Right. Sorry,’ she says. ‘You were saying. You’re fucked.’   
  
He eyes her incredulously for a moment, still reeling from embarrassment.   
‘Out of curiosity,’ he says, ‘how long have you known?’   
  
Luna chews her lower lip contemplatively. ‘I’m not sure you want to know.’   
  
Draco nods. ‘Right,’ he blows out a small breath and then collects himself. ‘Anyway. I wasn’t exactly talking about Harry.’   
  
‘You’re talking about Astoria.’   
  
He glances up at her. ‘Ok, I’m not even going to ask how you know what’s going on with my family.’   
  
‘Pansy told me. After we had sex.’   
  
‘I-- Right. I absolutely never want to hear about that.’   
  
‘Oh, don’t be a prude. I know enough about your sex life as it is.’   
  
‘ _Anyway,’_ Draco says firmly. ‘I’m supposed to have dinner with Astoria in a few hours, and I’m not looking forward to it at all.’  
  
‘I can’t imagine you are.’   
  
‘My parents want me to marry her.’   
  
Luna pours them both another Scotch. ‘Do you want to marry her?’  
  
‘Ha.’ Draco takes a sip of his scotch. ‘I don’t want to marry anyone.’   
  
Luna gives him a look. ‘I’m pretty sure you’d like to marry someone eventually.’   
  
Draco doesn’t answer.   
  
Her traces his finger around the rim of his glass. ‘You know,’ he says. ‘I’m almost certain I’ve never once forgotten to use a silencing spell, Luna.’   
  
Luna only sips on her scotch and smiles.  
  
~  
  
He’s only ten minutes late to meet Astoria, which is a miracle since he spent the evening drinking and talking with Luna, his head in her lap on their sofa. Luna has a way of coaxing his deepest secrets from his lips, and then making him believe that possibly everything could be ok.   
  
When he told Luna about Harry and his arrangement, she didn’t disapprove.   
  
‘Maybe that’s what you needed. But I think things have changed now.’   
  
Draco’s not sure what to do with that information. What is there to do? Tell Harry how he feels, and try to work out some sort of relationship between them? He might be falling for Harry --just a little, but he’s not a complete idiot, and self-preservation runs too deep in him to open himself up like that.   
  
Astoria looks up and smiles when he walks in.   
  
He’s put in a bit of an effort to look acceptable, choosing to wear a navy blue shirt with his jeans. He’s let his hair fall where it may and, according to Luna’s advice, left the two top buttons of his shirt open.   
  
He sits across from of her, and then leans awkwardly over the table to kiss her cheeks.   
  
‘Sorry I’m late.’   
  
Astoria picks up her menu and smiles. ‘I actually expected you not to show, so this is an improvement.’   
  
He smiles, and studies the menu. ‘The appetizers at least look edible,’ he murmurs.   
  
Astoria drops her menu onto the table. ‘Why don’t you order for us both,’ she says.   
  
Draco looks up, alarmed. ‘Why?’   
  
‘Well,’ she says, ‘if we’re to be married, I’ll have to learn to trust you, won’t I?’   
  
Draco tugs at his collar and looks around wildly for a glass of water. What kind of restaurant is this anyway? No one’s even come to their table yet.   
  
Astoria puts her hand over his. ‘It’s okay, Draco,’ she says, with a small smile on her face. ‘I’ve already ordered for us both. You don’t think I sat here for ten minutes simply twirling my hair, did you?’  
  
Draco sighs in relief. ‘No, I suppose not.’   
  
Astoria nods, and leans back in her chair. ‘You don’t want to marry me,’ she says plainly. ‘So, what are we going to do about this?’ she says, indicating her betrothal ring  
  
Draco sucks in a shallow breath, grabbing her hand. ‘Merlin, did they add  _more_ diamonds to this thing? I’m surprised you can even lift your hand off the table!’   
  
‘Lightening charms of course,’ Astoria says wryly. ‘Your mother had it done to appease my father. He thinks you’re taking far too long to make the wedding plans.’    
  
‘Fucking hell.’   
  
Astoria raises her eyebrow. ‘Your mother is already planning the colours for the nursery, so you’d best get a move on.’   
  
Draco sits back in his chair just as the waiter places a plate full of roasted stuffed mushrooms in front of him. His favourite.   
  
He looked up at her in surprise and she winks.   
  
‘It’s too damned bad I’m woman, isn’t it?’ says, grinning at him from behind a glass of wine.   
  
~  
  
Whole Foods must be the mother market of everything weird.   
  
Draco’s not sure what to do with most of the things on the shelves. He pushes his trolley forward, occasionally grabbing random items and reading the label. Sometimes he tosses it into his basket; more often than not, he pushes it back on the self in horror.   
  
He stops in front of the a food station, staring in rapt fascination as two Muggles wrap what appears to be raw salmon in bits of rice and grass with alarming speed.  
  
‘Oh, don’t look at it like that,’ says a familiar voice behind him. ‘They actually taste quite good.’   
  
Draco whips around, and there he is, the object of all his recent late night thoughts standing in front of him with his hands in his pockets, in a Gryffindor red jumper and dark jeans.   
  
‘What are you doing here?’   
  
Harry nods over to where Granger’s engrossed in reading a label of some food item in her hands, her hair a bushy halo around her head.   
  
Draco grips the bar of his trolley nervously. He’s not even certain he checked the mirror before he left the house today. Not to mention, he’s wearing the jeans he hasn’t washed for a few days since he only has two pairs. Then, to top off his pathetic look, he’s wearing his reading glasses, since Muggles insist on labelling their food in the most absurd, irritating small print.  
  
He touches the rim self-consciously, and Harry grins.   
  
‘They look good on you,’ he says, as if reading Draco’s thoughts.   
  
Draco cleared his throat. ‘Thanks.’  
  
So,’ Harry says, nodding to the counter behind him. ‘Sushi. Want to try it?’   
  
Draco looks back at the strange thing and shakes his head. ‘Not today, thanks,’ he says, pushing his trolley forward.   
  
Harry laughs and falls into step with him, following him down the aisle.   
  
‘Won’t Granger wonder where you’ve gone?’   
  
Harry shrugs. He turns to the shelf and grabs a few things and starts putting them into Draco’s trolley.   
  
‘What are you doing?’ Draco asks, alarmed.   
  
‘I know what you like in your mouth,’ Harry says, giving him a look. ‘Believe me, you’ll like everything I choose for you.’   
  
Draco says nothing, bemused.   
  
Instead, he occupies himself with watching the way Harry’s broad shoulders move beneath his jumper, or the way his forearms tense when he pushes up the sleeves, partially revealing the small tattoo close to his elbow that Draco’s always wanted to ask about.   
  
He peers into his trolley and picks up the container closest to him.   
  
‘Nut-Ella,’ he murmurs softly.   
  
 ** _Nutella_** _is a great tasting hazelnut spread that blends fresh hazelnuts **…**_  
  
  
‘You’ll thank me for that,’ Harry says.   
  
Draco looks up and shows him the container. ‘It says you can use it on bread,’ he says. ‘But this is chocolate.’   
  
Harry grins. ‘There are lots of places for chocolate I’m sure you haven’t thought of, Draco.’   
  
Draco hastily looks away, feigning a particular interest in a tin of gourmet maraschino cherries.  
  
They turn the corner and start heading up the aisle. Harry reaches for a few things, dropping them in Draco’s trolley. He trots away a few paces, and then returns with a box of what looks like woven hay in his hands.   
  
‘Are you sure you have enough, Muggle money?’ he asks quietly. ‘Because I--’  
  
Draco grips the back of Harry's head with his palm, and kisses him softly on the mouth.   
Harry grunts in surprise and Draco deepens the kiss, sighing into Harry’s mouth when Harry relaxes. He tastes of chocolate and mint, and Draco wants to take him home. Their glasses click against each other, and Draco pulls away.   
  
Harry fingers his bruised lips, looking at Draco with a slightly bemused expression. Draco shrugs and steps away.   
  
‘I have enough money,’ he says.   
  
There’s a woman standing across the aisle, studying a bag of eggless marshmallows a bit too closely, with small half smile on her face.   
  
Draco keeps moving forward, and they eventually hit each aisle, but the time they reach the till, Draco’s trolley is almost overflowing, and Harry keeps giving him covert, slightly confused glances.   
  
By the time he’s figured out a method of putting his items on the conveyor belt without causing mass destruction, Harry’s smiling his little smile at him again, and Draco’s back to feeling hopelessly out of his depth. He pays and collects their things. All eight bags of God knows what, and Harry follows him out of the store and they both silently agree to find a place to Apparate quickly.   
  
They eventually turn a corner and find a fairly empty alleyway, then they Apparate into Draco’s kitchen, taking only a second to dump his bags onto his worktop before they’re all over each other, grasping at clothes, ripping off buttons, nipping at flesh and tossing glasses hastily aside.  
  
Draco pulls Harry against him and Apparates to his bedroom.  As soon as he catches his bearings, he pushes Harry backwards, making him stumble a few paces before his back is pressed up against the closed door and the back of his head slams hard against the wood.   
  
Harry scowls. ‘Jesus, Malfoy. You're such an animal.’   
  
Draco just kisses him, reaching down to unfasten Harry’s jeans and cup his prick in his palm. When he pulls away, Harry is breathless, and Draco roughly pushes down Harry’s jeans and underwear. Draco steps back as Harry balances on arm on his shoulder to step out of his clothes, and when he kicks them aside, Draco pulls off his shirt and kneels in front of Harry to suck his cock.  
  
It’s not something he does often. There something too supplicatory in kneeling in front of another man. But, of course, Harry is the exception. Draco’s so hard, he has to adjust himself in his jeans to be comfortable as he takes Harry's cock in his mouth.  
  
 ‘Fuck yes.’   
  
Draco presses his palm flat against Harry’s hip, holding him down as he sucks him in slowly. Harry tugs on his hair, but he doesn’t move any faster, he only tongues the sensitive underside of Harry's cock, pushing back the foreskin and focusing on teasing the sensitive head just the way Harry likes.   
  
‘Oh God, Draco. Please. Faster.’  
  
Draco hums around Harry’s cock, gripping his trembling thighs and slowly sucking the length of his cock. When Harry tugs on his hair again, he locks his gaze with Harry’s and Harry bites his lower lip and moans softly. ‘Merlin, you’re a fucking bastard, Malfoy.’  
   
Harry keeps babbling nonsense words as Draco takes him deep into his throat, almost gagging around his cock. Draco removes his hand from Harry’s his hip and Harry starts thrusting into his mouth with quick, erratic thrusts. Draco spreads his knees to keep his balance, and lets Harry fuck his mouth, even though he chokes on his cock a few times. Harry holds his head in his palms and with a last snap of his hips, he comes into Draco’s mouth. Draco swallows rapidly, and when Harry pulls out, his cock is still hard. Draco leans back, letting a trail of come stretch thinly between them before dropping onto his bare chest. Harry watches transfixed, and then he cups Draco’s face.  
  
‘Get up here.’   
  
Draco stands, and Harry swiftly covers his mouth with his. Draco deepens the kiss, letting Harry taste himself on his tongue. Harry makes a small noise and holds the back of Draco’s hair more firmly, kissing him hard enough to bruise. Harry guides him backwards until the backs of his knees hit the bed and he drops down onto the mattress.   
  
Harry nudges him, and Draco slowly crawls backward up the bed, uncertain about this switch in power. His heart begins to race just a little as Harry crawls over him. Strands of his hair brush the top of Draco’s forehead and Draco runs his hands along Harry’s sides, enjoying the feel of Harry’s smooth skin beneath his fingers.  
  
Harry catches his gaze, and they simply look at each other unblinkingly for a few seconds until Draco feels like he can’t breathe with the intensity of it. Harrys kisses him again, and Draco doesn’t know what to do --he doesn’t know where to put his hands, or what to do with his thighs, so he simply relaxes his muscles, offering up his body for Harry’s delectation.   
  
Harry sighs. ‘ _Yes,_ ’ he murmurs into Draco’s mouth. ‘Just let it go.’   
  
Draco’s not certain what he means, but he does. He _just lets go_ , and they keep kissing for what seems like hours until his jaws are tired --until he feels like he’s stepped into Harry’s skin and Harry’s stepped into his. His skin burns with desire for this man, this impossible man who’s all over him and inside him, always. Even when Draco tries to keep him out.   
  
Harry pulls away, and without a word between them, Draco shimmies out of his jeans and underwear, and spreads his thighs. Harry’s come-slicked fingers probe his hole. He hasn’t done this in long time. Not since he started fucking Harry. It burns. He wraps his fingers around Harry’s forearms, tensing slightly as Harry stretches him.   
  
‘Relax,’ Harry murmurs, dragging his lips across Draco’s ear and teasing the flesh of his earlobe. Goosebumps break out on Draco’s skin and his body shudders. Harry keeps dotting kisses on his neck and working him loose until Draco’s certain he might actually be falling apart beneath him.   
  
When Harry slips his cock past the tight ring of muscle and is finally inside him, Draco digs his nails into Harry's back, arching beneath him and sucking in a deep breath.   
  
Is this what it feels like? He’d forgotten. He feels full and there’s pain, but not nearly enough to dampen the slow build of pleasure rising him, increasing each time Harry brushes  _just there_ with his cock.   
  
‘Merlin.  _Yesss,_  Harry.’   
  
Harry thrusts into him, building up a steady rhythm, his breath puffing against Draco’s neck. Draco wraps his arms around his neck, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back onto the mattress.  
  
‘Please,’ he says breathily.  
  
‘Please, what? Tell me.’   
  
‘Harder,’ Draco manages, digging his nails into Harry’s back. ‘Yes. Please. Just like that.’   
  
Draco reaches between them, stroking his cock in time with Harry’s thrusts. His orgasm surprises him, and his arsehole clenches painfully around Harry’s thick cock.   
  
Harry groans, tensing the muscles in his back. Draco holds onto Harry’s body tightly as he rides out the last few waves of his orgasm and then drops down heavily onto Draco’s body, smearing the come between them and panting heavily in Draco’s ear.   
  
Harry’s softened cock slips out of him as he turns to lie flat on his back. ‘That--’  
  
Draco nods.   
  
Harry turns on his side, propping himself up on his elbow. ‘Better than last time.’  
  
Draco scoffs. ‘Hardly,’ he says. ‘Last time I was doing the fucking. I was definitely better.’   
  
Harry laughs and rubs his palm over Draco’s come-smeared stomach. ‘Shower maybe?  
  
‘Definitely.’   
  
~  
  
He’s never spent quite so much time in the company of someone he’s fucked before.   
  
After a shower, Harry stays over, deciding to cook him the strangest dinner of crepes and Nutella that they eat in Draco’s bed, Draco straddling Harry’s lap as he receives a firm demonstration on all the many other surfaces on which Nutella can be enjoyed.  
  
‘This is really good,’ he murmurs, as he licks a dollop of Nutella off of Harry’s pert nipple.   
  
‘Umph,’ Harry replies.   
  
Harry’s spreads his thighs and Draco’s arse falls in the space between Harry’s legs. They’re both gloriously naked and sticky with chocolate, both their cocks half hard. Harry keeps running his palms up and down Draco’s thighs, and Draco firmly closes the jar of Nutella.   
  
‘If we eat any more of that, we’ll look more like Greg than we ever want to.’  
  
Harry smiles absently, not meeting Draco’s eyes as he idly strokes the sensitive skin behind Draco’s knee caps.   
  
‘What is it?   
  
Harry looks up, biting his lower lip. ‘The thing is,’ he says. ‘I don’t even know if I have a right to ask you what I want to ask you.’   
  
Draco sighs and wipes a bit of chocolate spread off his thigh. ‘You heard about Astoria.’   
  
Harry studies him, his gaze intense even without his glasses. ‘Why are you seeing her, Draco?’   
  
‘Why are you seeing that guy you’re still dating?’   
  
Harry looks away briefly, then shakes his head. ‘That’s different.’   
  
‘How is it different?’   
  
‘I’m not  _betrothed_  to him, Draco.’   
  
Draco takes a few short breaths, absently picking at a loose thread in his sheets. ‘How do you know about that?’   
  
‘I have my sources.’   
  
‘Well I have mine! You’re seeing other people. What does it matter if I have dinner with Astoria?’   
  
‘You came up with this “arrangement” remember? Just sex. No strings. What am I supposed to do, Draco? What do I do if I want something more?’   
  
Draco gives him a sidelong glance. ‘Do you?’  
  
Harry bangs his head against the headboard behind him. ‘That’s not the point. I know you, Draco. You can’t keep doing what your parents want! It never turns out well for you.’   
  
Draco swings his legs over the side of the bed, turning away from Harry. ‘What do you want me to do?’  
  
‘Just tell your fucking parents you don’t want to marry her.’   
  
Draco stands up off the bed, his movements stiff with anger.   
  
‘Oh, it’s that simple is it?’ he says, picking Harry’s clothes from the floor and tossing them into Harry’s face. ‘Then what? After they completely disinherit me, and my mother refuses to look at me again, I just move in with you?’   
  
Harry clutches his jumper, swinging his legs off the bed, and pulling it over his head. ‘You’re such a spoiled git, Malfoy. So they take away your cushy Gringotts vault --it’s just money!’   
  
‘It’s not  _just money_. It’s everything I am.  You don’t get it, Potter! You’ve never even had--’  he abruptly cuts himself off  before he can say anything even more stupid, but the look on Harry’s face makes it clear the damage has already been done.  
  
Harry watches him silently for a moment and then slips off the bed.   
  
The silence in his actions is what scares Draco the most. He watches, heart in his throat, and Harry stiffly pulls on his jeans and fingers his wand, Summoning his glasses and pressing them firmly on his face.   
  
‘You’re right, Draco,’ he says. ‘I’ve never had parents. Never had anything to live up to as a son. But I’m still not a fucking hypocrite.’  
  
Then he Disapparates.  
  
~  
  
Over the next two weeks, Draco stoically suffers through two more dinners with his mother and Astoria, talking about the wedding and resisting the urge to throw up.    
  
Lucius hasn’t said a word to him about this lack of a bride and heir, and Draco would be more relieved if he didn’t think it’s more because Lucius believes that Draco’s fucking some tart on the side and just needs to get it out of his system and then marry Astoria in a year or two.   
  
‘I’m not as rushed in thinking as your mother, Draco,’ he says over post-dinner coffee one night. ‘I married young, and understand that a man needs time. But for your sake, I’d get on with it before your mother does us both in.’   
  
  
  
There’s no comfort in his routine anymore. Two Fridays he visited the club but Harry wasn't there waiting for him like he always was. The last grocery store he tried was overpriced and weird. The customers in IKEA have started giving him strange looks and one even asked if he needed a buddy.   
  
Draco left as quickly as he could.   
  
He’s taken to spending his evenings sitting in their cozy window seat, staring out into the garden, picking his nails and sipping on tea, thinking about what Harry said.   
  
He’s twenty-four and still he feels this irrevocable urge to do everything his parents say and he doesn't know why. After the war... after --everything, Draco didn’t really have any friends left. Greg was there, but Greg was still fucked up by everything that happened. So he spent most of his time with his parents, growing more and more emotionally dependent on his mother and her plans for his life.   
  
He knows it’s about damn time he establish his own agency, but when he thinks about losing his parents’ approval, it feels like a large, festering hole opens in his chest.   
  
He just can't reconcile himself to disappointing them.  
  
Maybe it was part of being an only child.   
  
He winces as he tugs on a hangnail with his teeth.   
  
‘You keep biting your nails like that, and they’ll be nothing to look at,’ Luna says from the hallway.   
  
Draco looks up at her, and then grabs his teacup and neatly hides himself behind it.   
  
Luna rolls her eyes and drops down onto the couch across from him. ‘You would not  _believe_  who I met today.’  
  
Draco looks at her expectantly.   
  
‘Rolf. Scamander.’  
  
Draco blinks. ‘I suppose any minute now you’re going to tell me who that is.’   
  
Luna throws a cushion at his face and he moves his tea quickly out of the line of fire. ‘Oi! Crazy bint.’   
  
‘Rolf Scamander, Draco! He’s only Newt Scamander’s grandson!’  
  
‘Who?’  
  
‘For goodness sake. Did you even take Care of Magical Creatures in school? I’m starting to wonder why I hired you.’  
  
‘You hired me because I’m brilliant,’ he says, deadpanned.   
  
Luna scoffs. ‘Anyway. I’ve decided he’s an absolutely spoiled, condescending, irritating wanker.’   
  
Draco raises his eyebrows. ‘Cute?’   
  
Luna drops her head back on the couch. ‘He’s bloody gorgeous.’   
  
Draco smiles and sets his tea on the window ledge.   
  
‘Nothing for it then,’ he says. ‘We’ll just have to make him fall for you.’   
  
Luna smiles, picking at the throw cushion she’s clutching to her chest. ‘Have you finished feeling sorry for yourself?’  
  
Usually, he’d feel a spark of anger at that comment. In fact, if it were anyone else, Draco would have probably come up with some sort of stinging reply. But with Luna, for some reason, it’s different.   
  
‘Perhaps,’ he says.   
  
‘Good, because I know today is the day you sneak off to the park and do Merlin knows what, so I have a tip for you.’   
  
‘Luna, do you have some sort of tracking spell on me or something?’   
  
She grins. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know,’ she says.   
  
Draco’s mouth twitches. ‘Has anyone ever told you, you’re a bloody pervert?’’   
  
Luna’s laughter washes over in a comforting wave and he finds himself laughing with her, the weight in his chest marginally lighter.   
  
‘Do you want to hear my tip or not?’   
  
‘Go on then.’   
  
‘Cartwright gardens. It’s not far from King’s Cross and I know you like to take the train.’   
  
‘Okay..?’  
  
‘Harry takes Teddy there every Sunday. If you leave now, you can catch him and clean up the mess you’ve made.’   
  
Draco doesn’t says anything for a moment. ‘And if he doesn’t want to see me?’   
  
‘Then you apologise for being a prat, and you keep apologising till he hears you.’   
  
Draco chews on his thumbnail. ‘We’re not even together,’ he mutters.  
  
Luna rolls her eyes and stands up from the couch, dropping a kiss on his forehead before she says, ‘You’re as together as you can be, you fucked up twat.’  
  
~  
  
It’s a perfect day for the park. The sun is shining brightly, reflecting off the shiny green blades of grass in a sickeningly happy kind of way.  
  
Draco stuffs his hands into his jeans pockets. He’s wearing a kind of vest he’s not quite certain should be worn in public, from the various curious looks on the train, and a hat he wouldn’t have worn if he hadn’t been quite so worried about the tomato red tinge his skin takes when he’s in the sun too long. A sun repelling charm would be too obvious, and he happens to think the hat, what the attendant in the shop called a fedora, is actually quite attractive  
  
He spots Harry and Teddy as soon as he enters the park. Teddy’s teetering on a bike that looks to be twice his size, and Harry has one hand at the small of Teddy’s back and another on the bike handle. They slowly trudge along -Teddy covered in all manner of what Draco can only assume is protective clothing and not some sort of strange battle wear- when Harry looks up at him.   
  
At first he looks utterly gobsmacked, and then his mouth twitches and he sputters out a deep belly laugh, one that would usually put Draco on edge -he hates being laughed at- but which only makes him feel a bit relieved.   
  
‘What the bloody hell are you wearing?’  Harry says, pushing Teddy forward on the bike and coming closer to him.   
  
Draco looks down at himself. ‘What? It’s warm today.’   
  
‘Draco that’s a camisole,’ Harry says, mouth twitching. After Draco’s prolonged look of confusion he adds, ‘A women’s vest.’   
  
Draco drags his palm across his chest self-consciously. ‘Oh. Well then. That explains the looks on the train.’   
  
Harry pulls at the thin strap on his shoulder. ‘Didn't the lace frill put you off? You look like a cross dressing jazz musician.’   
  
‘Hey, now--’   
  
‘You’re weird,’ Teddy puts in.   
  
‘Well, you’re… covered in strange... things.’    
  
Teddy sticks his tongue out and continues pedaling slowly ahead of them.   
  
Draco glances at Harry. ‘Isn’t it a bit big for him?’   
  
‘No, it’s not!’ Teddy puts in emphatically from a few paces ahead.  
  
Harry grins. ‘Don’t tell him,’ he says quietly. ‘But I’ve put in a few stability charms on there when he wasn’t looking.’   
  
Draco laughs and falls into step beside Harry, watching Teddy painstakingly turn the sharp bend ahead of him.  
  
‘Look,’ Draco says. ‘I’m sorry about what I said. It was stupid, and insensitive, and I’m trying my best not to be like that anymore, but sometimes I fuck up.’  
  
Harry folds his arms across his chest, his eyes trained on Teddy ahead of them. ‘So do I,’ he says, pushing his glasses up on his nose bridge. ‘I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard.’   
  
Draco shrugs. ‘You were right.’  
  
‘Maybe, but you were right a little bit, too. I have no idea what it is you stand to lose.’   
  
Draco pulls of his cap and pushes back his hair. ‘Oh, I think you do. You have the Weasleys after all.’   
  
Harry bumps their shoulders together, and Draco veers off course, tripping over his feet.   
  
‘Wanker.’  
  
Harry grins and grabs the cap from Draco’s fingertips. ‘You look absolutely ridiculous in this,’ he says, putting it on his own head.   
  
Draco feigns outrage and tries to yank the cap off Harry’s head but Harry lithely steps out of reach and then runs a few paces ahead.   
  
Draco laughs and jogs to catch up.  
  
~  
  
‘I didn’t think it was possible for one little person to eat so much,’ Draco moans slumping over Harry’s worktop dramatically.   
  
‘Oh, really?’ Harry says, looking up absently from where he’s doing the washing up by the kitchen sink. ‘Think of all the hours you’ve spent eating my arse.’   
  
Draco’s face heats and he looks around to make sure no one’s around, even though they tucked Teddy in hours ago, and no one else is in Harry’s little flat.   
  
‘You really are uncouth, Potter.’   
  
Harry grabs the towel from his shoulder and tosses it in the drainer, turning to face Draco with a devilish glint in his eye.   
  
‘I just love it when you call me that,’ he says. His eyes drop to Draco’s chest. ‘And I think I love the way that vest looks on you.’   
  
Draco slams the worktop triumphantly. ‘Ha! I knew it. You’ve been staring all day.’   
  
‘It’s fucking hot.’  
  
Draco smiles slowly. ‘You’re so kinky, Potter.’   
  
Harry’s eyes darken slightly and he steps around the countertop pulling Draco flush against him.   
  
‘You don’t know the half of it,’ he murmurs. He tugs down the straps of Draco’s vest, leaning in to lick at his collar bone before pushing the fabric down Draco’s nipple into his mouth. Draco jumps slightly when Harry works his nipple in his teeth, then licks the tender nub with the tip of his tongue.   
  
‘You know,’ Harry says. ‘I think I have my Gryffindor tie somewhere around here. Think we could use it?’   
  
Draco grabs the back of Harry’s neck, crashing their mouths together, and Harry Apparates them both into his room.   
  
They only pull apart when they’re struggling to breathe, and Harry tosses a silencing and locking charm behind Draco’s shoulder with his wand.   
  
He Summons his scarlet Gryffindor tie with a smirk, and tosses it on the bed. Neither of them can get their clothes off fast enough, but Harry finishes first, scrambling up on the bed, Draco following in hot pursuit.  
  
He straddles Harry’s legs and grabs the tie first, silencing Harry’s protest with a kiss and draping the tie around his own neck. Harry leans forward and sucks one of his nipples into his mouth.   
  
Draco groans, feeling heady and light. Harry pulls away, lightly tugging at the ends of his tie.   
  
‘Looks good on you.’   
  
‘It’s about to look a lot better on you,’ Draco says. He leans forward and ties Harry’s hands behind his back, and then pushes him to lean back against the headboard with a flat palm on his chest.   
  
‘Now I can do anything I want with you.’   
  
‘Hmm.’   
  
Draco licks the pad of his thumb, and then teases Harry’s erect nipple, flicking the swollen nub with his nail.   
  
Harry shudders and bites his lower lip. ‘Take off my glasses, will you?’  
   
Draco does so gently, and sets them aside. He pushes Harry’s hair from his face, resting his elbows on Harry’s shoulders.   
  
Harry looks up at him from beneath full lashes that curve down onto his cheek, and Draco traces Harry’s scar with his fingertips.  
  
‘You are… incredibly beautiful, Harry, did you know that?’   
  
Harry doesn't respond, but he leans in and steals a kiss. ‘So are you.’’   
  
Draco reaches behind, grasping Harry’s hard cock and stroking it slowly. Harry rests the back of his head against the headboard, exposing his throat, and the prominent Adam’s apple that Draco finds irresistibly sexy.   
  
‘Lube?’   
  
‘In the drawer.’   
  
Draco reaches across and grabs the lube, squeezing a dollop onto his fingertips and reaches behind to prepare himself.   
  
‘God,’ Harry says. ‘I want to see. I want to see you stretching yourself for me.’   
  
Draco drops a kiss on Harry’s nose and turns so that his arse is completely exposed, leaning forward and pressing his shoulders into the mattress, using one had to separate his arse cheeks and the other to tease his hole,  
  
‘Fuck. That’s so hot. Draco, yes.’   
  
Draco fucks himself with his fingers, grunting a bit when he brushes against his prostate, scissoring his fingers to stretch himself open  
  
Harry shift behind him. ‘Draco, I need to fuck you. Right now.’   
  
Draco grasps the lube and squeezes a dollop into his palm, coating Harry’s cock, and then guiding it to his hole, sinking down slowly.   
  
‘Oh my god, Draco.’    
  
Draco spreads his thighs and lowers himself completely, until his arse is resting against Harry’s hips.   
  
He presses his palms on his thighs and slowly begins to ride Harry, getting himself used to the thickness of his cock, clenching his thighs for balance. Merlin. He’s loves this. He’s  _in love_  with this. It’s not just the sex. He could have sex with anyone. It’s Harry. Just having Harry inside him is enough.  
  
 It’s also fucking terrifying.   
  
‘Draco. I want to touch you.’   
  
‘Too bad.’   
  
Draco leans forward, resting on his elbows, changing the angle and lifting his arse upwards and riding Harry’s cock with each snap of his hips.   
  
‘Fuck Draco. I have to touch you. You have… nnngh. You have no idea how amazing you look riding my cock like that. Please.’  
  
Draco lifts his arse high, letting Harry’s cock slide out, and then he changes position, straddling Harry again, reaching behind and positioning Harry’s cock at his hole so he can impale himself on Harry’s cock.   
  
His thighs ache when he begins to cant his hips, but it’s worth it. It’s worth every hitching breath that Harry takes, every brush of skin, every stroke Harry’s cock makes deep inside him. He snakes his fingers through the hair at Harry’s nape and Harry leans forward and captures his mouth, his tongue desperately seeking entrance.   
  
‘Let me touch you,’ Harry says wetly against Draco’s lips.   
  
Draco nips Harry’s lower lip, working the flesh between his teeth. ‘Beg me for it.’   
  
‘ _Fuck_ , Draco, please.’   
  
Draco reaches behind Harry and unties his hands, and immediately Harry’s palms are everywhere. Roaming all over his skin, gripping his hips, spreading Draco’s arsecheeks, and Draco rides him for all that he’s worth.  
  
‘Fuck, your skin is amazing. I’m gonna come.’   
  
Harry’s hips shift suddenly, his body going taught as he comes inside Draco’s hole, and then slips out, spurting come on Draco’s arsecrack.  
  
Draco’s so close he can almost taste it, and Harry seems to know this, because he grips his cock, stroking him fast and hard until Draco comes, his body turning languid, draping himself over Harry’s shoulder, his hands buried in Harry’s hair, floating through the aftershocks of one of the most intense orgasms he’s ever experienced.   
  
Harry rubs circles into his back, and Draco kisses the side of his neck, then drops his head on Harry’s shoulder. After a few seconds where the only sound in the room is their heavy breathing, Draco loosens his grip, for some reason feeling… horribly embarrassed. In his uninhibited haze, he’s done exactly what he’s always wanted when it comes to Harry. Hold on tight and never let go.  
  
He pulls away, mentally, physically, inching his butt back until it hits the bed sheets and then swinging his legs over the side of the bed.   
  
He feels very naked. He silently gathers everything he owns, shakily pushing his legs into his jeans and pulling on his vest. He can’t find his fedora anywhere.   
  
He stands dressed, and awkward in front of Harry, who just looks at him a little warily.   
He grabs one of Draco’s belt loops and pulls him forward, wrapping his arms around Draco’s waist.   
  
Draco hesitantly strokes Harry’s hair and Harry looks up at him, green eyes wide and impossibly earnest.   
  
‘What do you need, Draco?’   
  
Draco swallows and looks down at him. ‘I don’t know.’   
  
‘You must know by now that this is more than some “arrangement”, right?’   
  
Draco’s heart thunders in his chest, and his breath quickens.   
  
‘Do you want me to wait for you, Draco? Is that what you need?’   
  
Draco closes his eyes briefly. ‘How do you--’ He steps back, out of Harry’s embrace. ‘How do you say things like that so easily?’   
  
‘I’m not afraid of what I feel for you.’   
  
‘I’m not afraid. I--’Draco grips his wand and looks away. ‘I have to go.’  
  
He doesn’t give Harry time to respond before he Disapparates.  
  
~  
  
Draco always gets a bit nervous when he sees an owl bearing Ministry crest.   
  
He opens the window to let the owl in, and it drops a letter into his palm and flees, not even waiting for any treats.   
  
It’s been two days since he last saw Harry, and he can’t lie to himself and pretend it’s not setting his teeth on edge. He’s still a coward though, and he’s not sure he can change that. Not even with Harry on his side.   
  
Draco rips open the letter, and lets out a laugh of surprise when he sees what inside.   
It’s an ATM card --some sort of Muggle device he can use to withdraw money from his Gringotts account. He applied for it, almost eight months ago, and he’d given up on thinking his application would be approved when the Ministry called him in three  times for review, asking him ridiculous questions like  _‘Was [he] planning to use his significant finances to create a terrorist cell in Muggle London?’_    
  
He turns it over in his hands. It’s shiny and beautiful, with his name in bold print, and he wants to buy something with it now. Something ridiculous and gaudy and so completely Muggle that his father will shit ice mice when he sees it.   
  
Something fast enough to outrun all of his problems.   
~  
  
It isn't too hard getting someone to sell him a motorcycle with no license and no insurance. Magic’s brilliant like that.   
  
1500 Galleons later, he’s the proud owner of a 2004 Yamaha FJR 1300, and he can’t wait to get her out in the open road.   
  
He’s only ever ridden a motorcycle twice in his life. Once with a bloke he picked up on Friday night, who even let him rev the engine a bit the morning after. His second time was on a whim, he found himself wondering on Belmont Street, when he stumbled upon a little shop that let him test drive a few (after a few mind altering charms, but the Ministry’s never come after him, so, all’s fair). It’s almost like riding a broom, but significantly easier on his prick.  
  
He uses a lighting charm to carry it up the stairs to his flat, grabs a bottle of scotch, and then spends the day tinkering with it, adding charms and studying it’s makeup in order to shrink and un-shrink it with no major problems. By the time late evening rolls around, the bottle of scotch is almost empty and Draco is idle and restless, and a little drunk. His mind keeps straying to Harry.  
  
 _\--Do you want me to wait for you, Draco?_  
  
He doesn’t want Harry to wait for him. He wants Harry  _now_. Fuck what his parents think. Fuck his mother and her wedding plans and that fucking garish nursery she’s set up for him and Astoria.   
  
He should tell them. He should tell them now, in fact.   
  
He shrinks his bike, sets it haphazardly on his dresser, and Apparates to the Manor. When he gets there, he takes the stairs in pairs, up to his mother’s room, and knocks gently on the door.   
  
‘Come.’   
  
His mother is sitting in bed, her back up against the headboard, reading. Her hair hangs loose, falling around her shoulders in delicate waves. She looks old and vulnerable.   
  
Draco swallows his anxiety, and steps into the room.   
  
When she sees him, she smiles and sets her book aside. ‘Draco,’ she says. ‘It’s so perfect you’ve come today, I have news.’   
  
‘Mother, I have to talk to you.’   
  
She raises her brows and then pats her bed, indicating that he should sit.   
  
He pushes up the sleeves of his shirt and Narcissa eyes his jeans with slight distaste and then presses her lips together.   
  
‘I simply can't understand why you’ve decided to no longer dress like a wizard, Draco.’   
  
‘Mother,’ he says, sitting beside her. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m not ever going to marry Astoria.’   
  
Narcissa opens her mouth then closes it again. ‘Now, Draco, darling--’   
  
‘No, wait, there’s more,’ he says, wiping his palms on his jeans. ‘I’m not ever going to marry a woman, either. I’m gay, Mother. I’m not going to give you an heir. At least, not the traditional way.’   
  
The corners of Narcissa’s lips turn downwards, and she presses her fingertips to her temples ‘Draco stop this,’ she says in a low voice. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’  
  
‘I’m trying to tell you, you need to cancel all your plans --the wedding… the betrothal. Everything. I can’t do it.’   
  
Narcissa waves her hands dismissively. ‘Draco, I won’t accept this.  _What is wrong with you?_  Is this the way I’ve raised you? To put your selfish,  _unwholesome_  desires above your family?’  
  
‘I’m sorry you feel that way.’   
  
‘Draco, look at me.’   
  
He doesn’t.   
  
She grabs his chin and roughly turns his face to her. ‘I will not have you ruining this family because of your selfishness. You  _will_  marry Astoria, and you’ll do it exactly when I tell you to. No more of this foolishness’  
  
Draco pushes her hand away and stands swiftly up off the bed. She’s staring at him with a look of horror, and the guilt is almost enough to make him sit back down and agree to her terms.   
  
He digs his nails into his palms, and thinks of Harry.  
  
‘I will not. I’m tired of… _compromising_  myself for this so-called family. I’m sorry Mother, but I just can’t do it anymore.’   
  
Narcissa’s chest heaves, her cheeks turning an unattractive puce. She looks away from him.   
  
‘Leave me,’ she says.  
  
‘Mother--’  
  
‘Leave me, Draco. We’ll speak again once you’ve come to your senses.’   
  
‘Mother… please.’   
  
‘Be quiet, you ridiculous child!  _Leave me_.’   
  
Draco turns on his heel and storms out of the room, walking blindly down the stairs, and into the entryway. His hand is on the doorway out of the Manor when his steps falter. He rest his forehead onto the carved wood and tries to steady his breaths.   
  
‘Give her time,’ a voice says behind him.   
  
He glances over his shoulder, unsurprised to find his father standing primly, holding his head up as though expecting a fight. ‘She’ll never forgive you, of course. But, she still loves you. She will eventually tolerate your... choices.’   
  
Draco wipes his eyes. ‘It’s not a choice,’ he mutters.   
  
‘That’s neither here nor there at this point, Draco You’ve disappointed her. You know what your mother is like.’  
  
Draco folds his arms across his chest and straightens his posture. ‘And you?’   
  
Lucius gaze drops slightly. ‘I’m hardly one to judge you by your choices, Draco,’ he says. ‘I am disappointed. _Gravely_  disappointed.’ Lucius runs his fingers through his hair and gives a weary sigh. ‘But I’m still your father, Draco. That won’t change.’   
  
Draco swallows thickly, and nods. ‘’I should go,’ he says.  
  
Lucius nods.   
  
~  
  
It’s an amazing feeling. The sky is pewter grey, the wind is merciless, pushing against him, pressing his helmet firmly onto his head. His fingers are almost completely numb even within his gloves, but fucking hell. Riding a motorcycle is Draco Malfoy’s new favourite thing to do.   
  
He’s been joyriding for ages, leaning into the curves and dips of the side streets, before heading to the motorway halfway losing his mind in panic and the rush of adrenaline. His body is constantly buffeted by the drag of the other cars and pushed into lanes he had no intention of merging into.   
  
It’s crazy. It’s fucking brilliant. And that’s almost exactly how he feels.   
  
And there’s only one person he wants to share this moment with.  
  
He checks his side mirror and takes the exit to get to Harry’s flat, taking corners low enough to graze his knees and cackling like a maniac into his helmet. When he’s ten minutes from Harry’s, according to his Point Me spell, the clouds finally break, raining heavy drops onto his helmet and jacket. When he pulls up outside of Harry’s flat, he pulls off his helmet and throws his head back, letting the rain water soak his hair and face.  A petite woman scuttles by with her umbrella, and Draco waves at her, hooking his helmet onto the bike handle and sliding off the seat.  
  
He jogs up the stairs to Harry’s stoop, where the most minuscule of awnings affords him some protection from the rain. He knocks on the door and waits, bouncing on his heels.   
  
It’s not Harry, but Granger who opens the odor. When she sees him, her eyebrows almost disappear into her bushy hair.   
  
‘Granger. Hello. I was really hoping for Harry.’   
  
‘Harry--?’ she says, bemused.  
  
‘Yes, is he in?’   
  
‘He is --just... wait here, I suppose. I --is that your motorcycle?’   
  
Draco looks behind him. ‘Yes! Yeah… isn’t she gorg?  
  
Hermione’s expression couldn't be any more confused if Draco had just asked her to marry him and bear his children.  
  
‘Are you quite all right?’ she asks.  
  
‘I’m brilliant. I’d just really love to speak to Harry if you don’t mind.’   
  
She steps away from him very slowly, and then turns to run up the stairs. Seconds later, Harry himself comes thundering down.   
  
His face lights up when he sees Draco, and Draco honestly just wants to back him up against the wall, but Granger is hovering in the background, and now Weasley is thundering down the stairs, too.  
  
Harry walks up to him, grinning. ‘Well. You seem lively.’   
  
‘Do I?’   
  
‘Very.’   
  
‘I did it,’ Draco says. ‘I told them.’   
  
Harry raises his eyebrows, briefly glancing at the growing audience behind him and placing a gentle hand on Draco’s sodden leather sleeve.  
  
‘How was it?’ he asks softly.   
  
‘Absolutely terrible. But I feel… good. You know?’   
  
Harry nods. He looks back at Granger and Weasley, now joined by Teddy and the Weasley girl and Longbottom, all staring at them in absolute astonishment.  Harry steps forward, dragging Draco outside and closing the door behind him.   
  
‘Sorry. They’re all really confused right now.’  
  
‘Oh?’   
  
‘Draco. You’re dressed like a biker. You came here on a--  _holy shit_ , is that the bike?’   
  
Draco nods excitedly. ‘Want to ride her?’   
  
Harry glances at him. ‘Maybe... after I ride you. Definitely’   
  
‘You seriously have a one track mind, Potter.’   
  
‘Draco, you’re soaking wet and dressed in leather,’ Harry says, with a crooked grin. ‘A man can only take so much.’   
  
Draco pushes him back against the door.   
  
‘My place?’   
  
‘Mmm, yes, please.’   
  
Draco Apparates straight into his bedroom, and kisses Harry as soon as they land.   
  
‘You realise you just left your bike in a no parking zone in London, right?’  
  
Draco trails soft kisses on Harry’s neck. ‘No one’s going to touch that bike.’   
  
‘You haven’t hexed it, have you?’   
  
‘It’s nothing illegal.’   
  
‘Rubbish. You’re going to get yourself arrested.’   
  
‘Shut up and kiss me.’  
  
Harry does, and Draco runs the palm of his hand beneath his shirt, flat again the small of Harry’s back.  
  
Harry pulls away and pulls off his shirt. ‘You’re cold and wet, Malfoy.’   
  
‘Hmm.’ He gently takes Harry’s arm. ‘Your tattoo. What does it mean?’  
  
Harry turns over his forearm, revealing the small neat letters spelling the word  _open._  
‘It’s um… it’s complicated. It’s a reminder of sorts,’ he says, brushing the raised flesh with his fingertips. ‘After the war. I shut everyone out. I was miserable. I started to forget what I’d done to survive. I forgot how many people had died so I could live. But when I started the shelter, I remembered. If I kept closing myself off like I did, I’d be dishonoring everything that happened. I have to remain… open.’   
  
Draco gently touches the tattoo, trailing his fingers over the length of his pale forearm.   
  
‘I know it sounds really stupid when I put it that way,’ Harry murmurs.   
  
‘It doesn’t.’   
  
Draco plants a quick kiss on Harry’s nose and helps him unbuckle his jeans. ‘So, Granger,’ he says. ‘She still trying to set you up?  
  
Harry shakes his head, and starts carefully unbuttoning Draco’s leather jacket.   
  
‘No?’  
  
Harry looks him in the eye as he slips Draco’s jacket off his shoulders and it falls to the floor. ‘I told her I was unavailable.’  
  
Draco watches silently as Harry unbuttons his shirt, and helps him out of his sodden jeans and underwear.   
  
There’s not a sound other than their breaths, and Draco’s almost certain Harry can hear the pounding of his heart.  
  
Draco wraps one arm around Harry’s waist and pulls him close. ‘Were you waiting for me?’’ he whispers, only inches from Harry’s lips. ‘All this time?’  
  
Harry kisses him deeply, and drapes his arms across Draco’s shoulders. ‘Absolutely.’  
  
Draco leans in and kisses Harry again, thinking how easy it would be to lose himself in loving him.   
  
He’s already lost.  And it doesn’t scare him like it did before.   
  
This time he feels… open.   
  


_fin._

**Author's Note:**

> Recipient: talithan  
> Title: Just One of Those Things  
> Trope: Friends with Benefits  
> Pairing(s): Harry/Draco, slight mention of Luna/Pansy  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Word Count: 14,500  
> Warnings (Highlight to view):*Lots of sexysexing, abuse of Apparition*  
> Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.  
> Author Notes: Dear, talithan You were a pleasure to write for! I did my best to fit in your likes, and somehow came up with this flangsty thing. I really hope you like it (*is nervous as hell*) Thanks to my beta and cheerleader. \o/


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